Tears of the Renegade (8 page)

Suddenly she realized that Imogene had followed the tell-tale gesture with knowing eyes, and she blushed.

Imogene sat upright. “Susan! He's interested in you, isn't he? How perfect! Thank God,” she said fervently.

Susan had expected a subtle scolding, not Imogene's almost rapturous joy. “What's perfect?” she asked in confusion.

“Don't you see? You're in a marvelous position to find out what he's planning and keep us informed; that way we can take steps to counteract anything he does. Why, you might even be able to talk him out of staying here!”

Stunned, she stared at Imogene, not quite able to believe what was being asked of her, what Imogene automatically assumed she would do, without protest. After all, she was family, and her first allegiance was to that family. It was the same sort of thinking that had allowed Imogene and Preston to use Cord's money illegally in the first place; it wasn't as much Cord's money as it was Blackstone money, and therefore available for their use.

She strove for an even tone. “He's not interested in me. If anything, I'm tarred with the same brush he's used to paint you and Preston.”

Imogene waved that thought aside with a brisk movement of her hand. “Nonsense.” She examined Susan critically, her gray eyes narrowed. “You're a lovely woman, though of course not his usual sort. It shouldn't be difficult for you to get around him.”

“But I don't want to get around him!”

“Dear, you
must!
Don't you see that the only way we can protect ourselves is to know in advance what he's planning?”

Agitation tumbled Susan's insides with a restless hand, and she got to her feet, unable to sit still. “It's impossible,” she blurted. “I'm not a…a slut. I can't sleep with him just to
spy
on him!”

Imogene looked affronted. “Of course you wouldn't, but I'm not asking that of you, Susan. All I'm asking is that you see him, talk to him, try to find out what he's planning. I realize that it may cost you a few kisses, but surely you're willing to give that in exchange for our protection.”

A few kisses! Did Imogene really know so little about her own nephew? Susan shook her head slowly, denying the idea to herself, as well as to Imogene. “A few kisses isn't what he wants,” she said, her voice muffled. And even if she went to bed with him, he still wouldn't divulge any secrets to her. All he wanted from her was a good time in bed, physical release, a momentary pleasure.

Imogene didn't give up easily; there was steel in her spine, in her character. Sitting very upright, her chin lifted proudly, she said firmly, “Then it's up to you to keep him under control. You're not a teenager, to be seduced in the backseat of a car to the theme of ‘but everyone does it.' You can string him along.”

If Susan had been less shocked, she would have laughed aloud, but as it was she stood frozen, staring at Imogene as if she were a stranger. What her mother-in-law was telling her to do struck her as little less than prostitution, and she felt chilled by the realization that Imogene had so little regard for her feelings, her morals. She was simply supposed to do whatever was asked of her.

“No,” she refused in a low voice. “I can't…I
won't
do it.”

A cold fire began snapping in Imogene's eyes. “Really? Do you care so little for me, for Preston, that you'll simply stand and watch while that wretch destroys us? We won't be in it by ourselves, you know. You'll suffer, too. If he decides to sue us for damages, he could bankrupt the company, and there would go the standard of living that you currently enjoy. People will talk about you just as they would about us; everyone will believe that you knew about the money from
the beginning. You've made a big show of ‘working' at the company since Vance died, so people will assume that not only did you know about it, you approved.”

Susan had seen Imogene in action before, and knew that few people could stand up to her when she lashed out with her lethal tongue, when she stared at someone with those cool, hard eyes. Most people gave in to her without even a hint of resistance. Vance had had the strength to soothe her, agree with her, and calmly go about his own business in his own way, smiling at her and charming her whenever she realized that he'd ignored her directions. Preston wasn't that often at variance with her, though he was a lot warmer, a lot more human. Because she had been challenged so seldom in her life, she didn't expect anyone to disobey her openly. The quiet determination Susan had shown in becoming Vance's wife, then in taking up the reins of his business interests at his death, should have told her that Susan wasn't like most people, but still she wasn't prepared for a refusal.

Susan stood very straight, very still, her expression calm, her dark blue eyes quiet and level. “Regardless of what anyone says, I'll know that I haven't done anything wrong, and that's what's important to me. I'll help you any way I can, except for that way. I'll sell everything I own, but I won't play the whore for you, and that's what you're asking me to do. You know as well as I do that Cord isn't a man who can be controlled by any woman.”

Imogene got to her feet, her mouth tight. “I expected more loyalty from you than this. If you want to turn your back on us when we're in trouble, I can't stop you, but think very carefully about what you stand to lose.”

“My self-respect,” Susan said dryly.

Imogene didn't storm out of the house; she swept out, regally, in a cold rage. Susan stood at the window and watched
her drive away, her chest tight with hurt and sadness because she hadn't wanted to damage the relationship she had with Imogene. Since she'd first met Vance's mother, she had carefully cultivated a closeness with the older woman, knowing how important the ties of family were to a marriage, and how much Vance had loved his mother despite her reserve. Imogene wasn't a villain, even though she was autocratic. When she loved, she loved deeply, and she'd fight to the death for those she cared about. Her blindness was her family; anything was acceptable to her if it protected her family. Until now Susan had been wrapped in that fierce blanket of protection, but now she felt that she'd been cast out as Cord had been cast out. Dues had to be paid if someone expected to benefit from that protection; conformity was expected, and a willingness to sacrifice oneself for the well-being of the whole. Cord had been cast out because he hadn't conformed, because he'd left the family open to gossip. His reputation hadn't been up to par, and he'd been forced out of the closed circle.

Had he felt like this? Susan wondered, running her hands up her chilled arms. Had he felt lost, betrayed? Had he been alarmed to be without the support that he'd known since birth? No, he hadn't been alarmed, not that man; instead he would have thought with grim delight of punishing them for turning their backs on him. Wasn't that what he was doing now?

Cord. Somehow all her thoughts these days returned to him, as if he had become the center of her world. She hadn't wanted him to, but since the moment he'd walked in from the night, he had eclipsed everyone else in her every waking thought, in her dreams, had invaded even her memory, so that she constantly had the taste of his mouth on her tongue, felt the hard warmth of his hands on her flesh.
I could love him!
she thought wildly, and shuddered in half fear, half excitement. Loving him would be the most dangerous thing she'd
ever done in her life, yet she felt helpless to deny the effect he had on her. If it wasn't love yet, it had nevertheless gone beyond mere desire, and she was teetering on the edge of an emotional chasm. If she fell into it, she'd be forever lost.

The emotional strain that she was under was visible on her face the next morning when she walked into the office, later than usual for her because she'd spent a restless night, then overslept when she finally did manage to fall asleep. Because she felt so frazzled, she'd attempted to disguise her emotional state by hiding behind an image that was sterner than the one she usually projected. She'd pulled her soft dark hair back into a tight knot and applied makeup carefully, hoping to divert attention from the lost expression in her eyes. The dress she had chosen was sleekly sophisticated, a black silk tunic with narrow white vertical stripes, cinched about her slender waist with a thin black belt. It wasn't a dress that she wore often, because it had always seemed too stark for her, but today it suited her mood perfectly.

She told Beryl good morning, then went straight through to her office and closed the door, hoping to submerge herself in the reports that she hadn't finished the day before, because she'd been in such a hurry to see Cord. A wasted effort, she thought with a painful catch in her breath. Resolutely she pushed away the thought of her failure and picked up the first report, only to replace it when someone knocked firmly on her door.

Without waiting for an answer, Preston let himself in and sauntered over to ease himself into the chair opposite her desk. He sprawled in it and pressed his fingers together to form a steeple, over which he peered with blue eyes alive with curiosity. “What did you say to Mother?” he asked with relish. “I haven't seen her so angry in years.”

Susan caught the grin that twitched at his mouth, and against her will she found herself smiling at him. Preston had a little bit of the devil in him at times, a puckish sense of
humor that he seldom allowed to surface. Whenever he did, it made his eyes sparkle in a manner that reminded her strongly of Vance. Now was one of those times. Despite the pressure he was under, he was being eaten alive with curiosity, wondering what Susan could possibly have said to his mother to put her in such a snit.

She wasn't certain just how much to tell him, if anything. She decided to stall. “Did Imogene tell you that Cord turned down my offer of the ridges?”

He nodded. “I'm glad, too. I know it would've been the easy way, but I don't want you to pay for something that was our fault. You know that.” He gave a graceful shrug. “Mother didn't agree; she thought that it would be worth it if we stopped any trouble before it began.”

Yes, head off scandal, at any cost. Deciding to tell him the truth in the hope that he would support her, she took a deep breath and braced herself. “She wanted me to see Cord—play up to him—and try to find out what he was planning so you could counteract it. I refused.”

Preston's eyes had widened, then narrowed as he realized the scope of her simplified explanation. He swore softly. “Thank God for that! I don't want you around him. Mother shouldn't have suggested anything like that.”

“She'd do anything to protect her family,” Susan offered in Imogene's defense.

“Telling you to play up to Cord is like throwing a lamb to the wolves,” he snapped. “You wouldn't have a chance. What in hell ever gave her the idea?”

A faint blush crept into Susan's cheeks, and she looked away from him. “She knows that he kissed me….”

Preston bolted upright in his chair. “He what?”

“He kissed me,” she repeated steadily. Did Preston think that was something to be ashamed of?

He'd turned pale, and abruptly he surged to his feet, running his fingers through his neat hair in an uncharacteristic gesture. “I thought, the night he first showed up, that he was just playing up to you to get back at me. Is that all it is?”

Susan bit her lip; she honestly didn't know. Her body told her that Cord Blackstone's interest wasn't limited to her name, but her mind worried over the issue. A man's sexual instincts could be aroused even when he had another motive for seducing a woman, so she couldn't let herself be confused by the physical responses he'd shown. Yet, he'd responded to her from the very beginning… Just when her heart was beginning to beat faster in faint hope, she saw herself stretching out her hand to him, and heard herself saying, “I'm Susan Blackstone…” No, he'd known from the first that she was a Blackstone, married to either Vance or Preston. Unhappily, she looked up at Preston. “I don't know,” she said miserably.

He began to pace around the room. “Susan, please, don't have anything else to do with him. Don't see him at all, unless you have to. You don't have any idea of the type of man he is.”

“Yes, I do,” she interrupted. “He's a hard, lonely man.” How could he not be lonely? He might have built an emotional wall to guard him, but he was all alone behind it.

Preston gave her a derisive, unbelieving look. “My God, how can you be so naive? You've got to stop seeing good in everyone! Some people are bad all the way through. Will you promise me not to see him again, and protect yourself before he has a chance to really hurt you?”

There was a very real chance that
he
wouldn't want to see
her
, but suddenly she knew that if by some miracle he gave her another opportunity, she'd seize it with both hands. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to kiss him, to try to discover if what she felt for him was a fleeting sexual magic, or if the seeds of real love had been sown. For five years
she'd grieved for Vance, and though her love for him would never die, neither would it grow. Vance was frozen in place in her heart, but he didn't occupy all of it. There was still so much love in her to give! She wanted to love again; she wanted to marry again, and bear children. Perhaps Cord wasn't the man who would be able to touch her heart, but she already knew that she had to take the chance. If she let the opportunity pass, she'd always wonder about it, and mourn for lost chances for the rest of her days.

She looked Preston in the eye. “I can't promise that.”

He swore softly, and suddenly his shoulders hunched.

“All of these years,” he muttered. “First you were Vance's wife, then his widow. I've waited, knowing you weren't over Vance, that you weren't ready to become involved with anyone else. Damn it, why does it have to be Cord?” The last sentence was a harsh cry, and his chest swelled with the fury inside him. He gave Susan a look so tortured that tears welled in her eyes.